


Windmills of Her Mind

by AuburnRed



Category: The Prisoner (1967)
Genre: Betrayal, ESP, F/M, Friendship, Mind Reading, Mothers & daughters, Psychic Abilities, backstories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-21
Updated: 2014-09-21
Packaged: 2018-02-18 05:44:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2337347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuburnRed/pseuds/AuburnRed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story of Allison, the mind reader from "Schizoid Man." Who was she? What brought her to the Village? How did she and Six develop that mental link? Why did she betray him and what happened afterward?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Windmills of Her Mind

Windmills of Her Mind  
By Auburn Red  
A Prisoner (1967) Fanfic  
The cast of the Prisoner do not belong to me. They belong to the wonderfully talented Patrick Mc Goohan, George Markstein, and Everyman Limited. The title is a paraphrase of the song, “Windmills of Your Mind” by Michael Legrand, and Alan and Marilyn Bergman. The ideas presented in this story, such as Engadine from “A,B, and C” and Allison from “The Schizoid Man” being mother and daughter, were created by your humble servant and were in no way found in original sources. They were just thoughts to fill in the blanks.  


"I suppose that you think that I should return to my mother," she said.  
"You suppose correctly," the older man said coolly. It wasn't just that she could read minds. It was that she knew him so well. Allison was on her way anywhere that she could go, where she could ignore her oddity, or at least be accepted. She thought that she had that in The Village, but now she wasn't so sure. John, it felt good to call him by his name again and not that number, Six, let her stay in his home and now she was on her way again. But to where? She had no idea. Wouldn't it always be the same, people who didn't understand, people who thought that she was lying, insane, or just a freak, or people like her mother just didn't want to talk about it and put it away somewhere like it was a shameful secret like a physical deformity or a skeleton in the closet?  
"I'm sure that she isn't worried about me," Allison reasoned. "Maman doesn't worry. You know that. She entertains guests, hosts parties, attends salons, and goes wherever she could be seen."  
That is worrying for her," John said wryly. Allison couldn't resist a smirk at the truth. After all being the celebrated Madame Engadine's daughter was not an easy thing to be and Allison always knew that sometimes with her mother, what she didn’t say often spoke louder than what she did.  


She smiled at John. He was probably one of her mother's oldest friends, an ally, someone that Engadine often flirted with more of enjoying the thrill of the chase than really interested in catching him, which John used to volley off her turning it into a game between them. The truth was, and Allison knew this, he was one of the few people that either Allison or her mother could call a real friend.  
Allison supposed that John filled some sort of void in her youth since he was an older man who was kind, almost paternal towards her. Allison supposed that she had been searching for a father figure all her life. It made sense, her father died when she was three years old and she never felt close to any of her stepfathers. She was a child of privilege, gone to the best schools, had dozens of clothes, wealthy parents but she often felt lonely and shy around people. It was her “deformite” as her mother referred to it, that kept her from others. She would sometimes get headaches, get mental pictures in her head, and then she would blurt out the strangest most erratic things. Many of her mother’s friends were frightened of her. When she was younger, Allison’s schoolmates often avoided her so she thought it best to keep to herself. Her mother caught onto that, because she always complained to John of her young daughter's solitary nature.  


"My Alais can sometimes be the disappointment to me," Engadine would despair in that melodramatic way. "Takes after her late father, God rest him-"she said crossing herself though Allison couldn't remember the last time her mother ever attended Mass-"Always with her nose in the books and not looking for a nice handsome husband. She never learned what I did, marry young, marry rich, and marry often." As if the problem was simply shyness or bookishness and not some other odd reason that couldn’t be brushed off by going to parties and befriending the popular girls.  
However, John didn't seem to mind that, he spoke to Allison as though she was not a precocious child, but as a young adult. He discussed politics, literature, philosophy anything that would come to mind. He taught the young girl to play chess, and never once let her win because she was young, always wanting to test her.  


In fact it was John who first suggested that Allison was telepathic. It was when she was 15 and home from public school in England (To her mother's despair, she enjoyed going to school in her late father Sir George Barrington's country rather than her mother's, one of the many sources of dissension between them) She had been having another of her headaches. They happened more frequently when Allison reached adolescence. They became more frequent after her mother married her third husband, and Allison's least favorite stepfather.  
Her stepfather, Cesar Rouchambeau, was handsome, charming, and swept Engadine off her feet. But Allison was not fooled by him and as soon as they were married, the young girl's suspicions were proven right. She would call home and her mother would have a frightened tone in her voice or she would visit and would see a bruise expertly covered by makeup. "It is nothing to worry about, Petite Alais," Engadine would assure her. "Just your clumsy maman having too much champagne." But Allison knew the truth. She also didn't like the way Cesar's eyes would stare at her too long or how he leered at her. She had developed into a lovely young woman and her stepfather certainly wasn't ignoring that. It filled her with loathing. When he did that, those headaches would return and she would say something like "I will not be alone with you, because you want to force me on the bed and rape me." He would glare at her and back off for the moment.  


This particular time, Allison was in her bedroom and heard her mother and stepfather having an ugly fight. Cesar threw something at her mother's direction and it smashed. Then she could hear a slap and her mother yelling mostly in French and English. Allison ran downstairs hoping to defend Engadine from any other violence. Engadine was shriveled against a table sobbing with Cesar towering over her. "Maman," Allison yelled.  
"Alais, go upstairs," her mother commanded. Cesar turned to the young girl and was ready to approach her. He only managed to grab her forcefully by the shoulder and pull off one strap of her nightgown when Allison felt the headache returning.  
She looked at her stepfather square in the face with all the hatred she could muster."You will toss Maman over the stairs. In her drunken state, it will look like an accident. Then you will have her money. You want to send me away so I will return not as your daughter, but as your mistress." She spat at him with such revulsion and hatred so he would know that his proposal was not at all accepted.  
Cesar wiped the spittle off his chin and looked at the young girl in shock, not out of denial, but out of guilt for being caught in something that he knew all along. He stopped frozen then looked from the mother and daughter. Without another word, he ran out the door. He never returned.  
Allison looked down at her mother, as she stood up. She wanted to hug her and let her know that they were going to be alright. But instead her mother glared at her, her face turning pomegranate and she slapped her daughter hard across the face. Instead of blame towards her, soon to be ex-husband, she turned her anger towards her daughter! "You turned him away," she said. "How could you say such a thing? You wanted him for yourself!"  
"I didn't know what I was saying, Maman, I swear, it just came out," Allison begged. Her cheek stung from the slap."I only know what I saw and what I heard in his head!"  
"I don't want to hear another word," Engadine declared. "I hope that you are satisfied that you have ruined my marriage forever, you little slut! If you ever do that to me again, I will put you in the hospital where they treat little girls who hear voices in their heads is that clear?"  


Allison could say no more and ran to her room. A few days later, John had arrived and Engadine was her usual boisterous cheery self announcing that her husband was away on holiday for a good long time. Allison however sulked. In a private conference with John, Engadine spilled her guts. Allison looked downstairs from her bedroom listening. "She is mad, or ill," she said. "I feel silly talking to you this way but there is no one else that I trust and you are a handsome devil."  
John brushed off the compliment. "Maybe not," he said. "I think there is more than that. I think that she may be able to read minds. She knew what he was thinking and used it against him."  
"Impossible," Engadine declared but sounded more frightened than skeptical.  
"Nothing is impossible," John replied. "Anyway she got rid of that pig for you. If I were you, I would at least be grateful for that." Engadine looked upwards and even though she was not telepathic, Allison imagined it was the maternal instinct that knew her daughter was listening and gave her a warm smile that let her know that she was forgiven. However, years later when Allison even broached the subjects of either Cesar or her ability, Engadine would be quick to hurriedly change the subject. After awhile, Allison just stopped talking about it.  


After that when John visited, he would bring Allison books on the human mind, telepathy, ESP, and would sometimes test her with Zener cards for her abilities. Just as with chess, he would test her full abilities to see what she was capable of.  
John was a good friend to the family. In her adolescence, Allison thought herself in love with him, but as she grew older, her infatuation evaporated into respect and affection. Perhaps, she even saw him as a favorite uncle or even better a potential stepfather. (To which John shook his head and said, "Absolutely not, your mother and I know each other too well. It wouldn't last the honeymoon.") Now, she saw him as a trusted mentor, one she could confide in. So it still broke her heart to betray him as she did in the Village. And for what?  


Originally, it was Number Two's interest in her abilities. That was what brought her to the Village in the first place. She was attending University, studying English Literature, and calling out a soon-to-be former boyfriend for having an affair while he was seeing Allison.  
Once again, he left. It was the story of Allison's life. How many friends did she loose because she would say the wrong thing? Other students would tease her because she seemed weird or strange? And many young men who pursued her only to back off when the truth of her words revealed them for the cads that they really were? No wonder, she was always so alone. Through John she understood what she had, but that didn't make her feel any more accepted or less lonely because of them. One of the theories according to the books was that she didn’t read minds, so much as she found clues, coincidences that weren’t really coincidences. They often said that the importance was to find someone simpatico a conduit to bounce these thoughts off of. This theory made Allison lonelier. If these abilities couldn’t be controlled or disappear then what difference did it make where they came from? How could she find someone simpatico when she could barely get someone to stay and talk with her through tea?  
That day, she was reading Trilby for her studies on Gothic literature, when a handsome dark-haired man approached her, the man who would later be the new Number Two. Insanely, she thought the man looked exactly like her mental image of Svengali.  
"Allison Barrington," he asked. Allison nodded. "I understand you have some unique abilities which would be of great value to me and my associates."  
Allison winced, but she decided to play dumb. "I don't understand what you are talking about."  
"Oh, I think you do," he said.  
Allison remembered some of the books that John had given her and how they suggested that the key to mastering these abilities was calmness and focus. Another key was to find the simpatico. Could this be him? She looked straight at the man and spoke as images flashed through her head of the man’s life: faces, achievements, memories, tragedies. "You work for the British government, but not now. There is a great sorrow in your life, a woman not your wife but a relative, a mother, possibly. No she was too young, a sister. You had a sister that passed away recently. Her name was Susan.” The man’s head lowered as if in confirmation of her words. “You want to send me somewhere. It's a village, somewhere, but I can't see where."  
"I heard rumors about you," the man said. "I'm certainly glad to know that they were true."  
"I don't trust you," Allison declared. She was about to turn away when the man called to her.  
"You are different," he said. "You have been mocked, jeered at. Your stepfather was frightened of you. Even your mother won't discuss it." Allison stared at the man in shock. "You don't have to be a mind reader to understand what it's like to be different. What if I were to tell you that there was somewhere you can go where you can be accepted or even if you so choose, your deformity can be eradicated."  
Allison gulped. The mind reading had been a part of her life for a long time. It would be hard to imagine a life without it. But, to never have the headaches? To never utter those odd thoughts? To never hear disappointment in her mother's voice? To feel normal? "Could you do that?" she asked.  
"Of course," he said. "We just need you to do some things for us. You just have to agree."  
Allison considered for a few moments and even read the man's thoughts. There appeared to be nothing sinister in what he was offering. "Alright," she said. "When do I begin?"  
"Right now," the man said and before she could even react, Allison felt someone grab her from behind and put a handkerchief up to her mouth and nose. She felt a strong smell then nothing that was until she woke up inside the Village. (No, as the joke goes, she did not see it coming.)  


Her job in the Village was simple at first. She was required to befriend new people to mentally discover secrets on them and report to the ever changing Number Twos about their mental behaviors and whether their thoughts contradicted their actions. Every time Allison entered the green dome, she felt dirty as she offered her reports as though she were Mata Hari, leading people to be executed. As for what happened to the numbers after she gave her reports, well she didn’t want to know. So she did her work keeping a mask of coolness and indifference that was until she saw John again.  
She couldn’t believe it as she saw her and her mother’s old friend being interrogated in the Village. She fought, argued, pleaded, begged to be reassigned to someone else. But Number Two explained his plan of bringing in an ally of his, his brother-in-law, from SIS because he superficially resembled John, of course he was Number Six then. “So what does that have to do with me, then?” Allison asked.  
“The real Number Six knows you, he trusts you and from what I understand he’s aware of your abilities,” Number Two said holding Allison by the shoulders as though he were a romantic suitor. Allison pushed away. “All you have to do is if the real Number Six needs you to confirm his identity, you fudge the details so to speak.”  
“You mean cheat,” Allison translated. “If he tests me, you want me to lie about my answers to make it appear that he is the wrong one.”  
“Exactly,” Number Two said.  
Allison shook her head. “No, I won’t! I can’t, John, Number Six I mean has been a friend of mine for years, even out there! We’re like family to each other!”  
“Suppose I were to sweeten the deal,” Number Two said as he flipped a button on the view screen. “A few of our medical staff have been working on a cure for your abilities,” Through the view screen, Number Two showed surgeons standing over a body. “Apparently, they have ways of slightly tinkering with the amygdala and the anterior cingulate cortex to reduce the energy that flows through making your psychic episodes diminish or even disappear altogether.”  
Allison at first wanted to scoff. After all many of the previous Number Two’s had dangled that promise in front of her, but she knew that the medical and science fields in the Village were astronomical. They could do many things that couldn’t be possible. Maybe this would be it. She heard Number Two’s thoughts and knew that they were honest. Still it was too good to be true. She glanced over at the view returning to the image of Number Six, pacing back and forth.  
“Suppose I refuse,” Allison said.  
Number Two smiled icy as though that weren’t even a possibility. “Then I suppose that you should listen to a plan of my predecessor’s.”  
The viewscreen than changed to the previous Number Two, a nervous looking fellow with glasses standing next to a blond woman, whom Allison only knew by sight. The two were standing over Number Six tied to several tubes and watching something on the monitor. Allison couldn’t see the image but she certainly recognized the voice of the woman seeing as how she heard it nearly every day of her life. They were watching her mother!  
Allison listened as the Number Two and woman on the screen discussed sending Madame Engadine to the Village. Allison shook in terror at the thought. “I think you’ve heard enough!” The Number Two in front of Allison said as he turned off the screen. “We still can send for her you know. We know where she lives, where she goes, who her friends and current lovers are. After all someone who sells out can never be trusted by anyone even her own family. Now which would you prefer to sell out, your mother or your presumptive father?”  
Tears filled Allison’s eyes as she weighed the decision before her. She could not condone them sending her mother to the Village no matter what she had done out there. True, they had her disagreements, said things that were out of turn, but loyalty was loyalty and Allison would never allow her mother to go through this. She would not last under the psychological torture. She would die from the strain, suffer a breakdown, or conform into a shell of her former joie de vivre self. The self that Allison mocked tremendously, got exasperated by, but also loved.  
In a voice that she didn’t recognize, Allison made her decision. “He knows me well outside the Village. He won’t always think to call me by my number. Let him call me by my name.”  
Number Two smiled. “Of course, we’ll be watching with great interest.” The butler appeared to lead Allison out of the dome. “Be seeing you.” Number Two said using the hand gesture. Allison half-heartedly repeated the gesture but couldn’t say the words.  


It was hard at first to gain Number Six’s trust, not that Allison could blame him. After all, he had been betrayed by so many so-called allies so far, what made her think he could trust her? It took a bit of following her old friend, reminiscing with him, discussing many of the things that they used to talk about before he began to thaw but then only slightly. He glared. “Everyone has something to sell and to offer even you. Just because you wear a familiar face doesn’t mean that I’m convinced!” He harshly brushed her aside.  
Allison reasoned. Trying to talk to John, no Number Six remember he’s Number Six here, she thought, wouldn’t work. But then she knew that the fastest way through John’s heart is through knowledge. He used to love to teach her and what better lesson could he offer than her abilities? She came to Number Six’s door with a fabrication that she wanted to practice her abilities for an upcoming festival and she thought that Number Six would be good at being simpatico. They could practice their mental link. Skeptical at first, Number Six continued to train her as before tough but fair.  
The new Number Two was pleased. He told her that she would make a good spy but Allison never felt more wretched. When the two Number Sixes tested her, she couldn’t even look at them. She wanted to shout who the real Number Six really was. No, she said, think of Maman! They will hurt her! So, she pointed purposely to the wrong one swallowing her guilt mentioning the Alternate Number Six’s mole on his right wrist to clinch the deal. When the new Number Two was satisfied, he released Allison. She left the Green Dome wishing that she had never been a part of it in the first place.  


When he entered her house, even she wasn’t sure which one he was. She had her suspicions but she had to test them. When the Alternate Number Six asked her about whether she and Number Six read each other’s minds, Allison mentioned the theory about coincidences. The real Number Six would know that was only one of the theories, she recalled. He didn’t catch the bait, but Allison looked closer and listened. When he lit her cigarette and mentioned something about playing with matches, she knew as though he were shouting it. She also realized besides being ordered, he was testing her. Allison panicked. She knew Number Six was planning on escaping in his new identity. She ought to report it to Number Two, but she knew what she had to do.  
She stood outside the helicopter as Number Six was ready to leave. He was a friend and she shouldn’t let him leave without a chance or an explanation. At least she should let him know that she was on his side. Allison spoke to him, trying to be as cool and methodical but inside she was shaking. She told him out loud that she wouldn’t do it again.  
“There are no second chances,” Six said. Allison hoped that John could see it in her eyes: , _Go John, I am giving you a chance to escape. Isn’t that a chance enough?_ But she didn’t.  
“There are for the lucky ones,” Allison said praying that John would be lucky enough to escape. Her heart thudded as she saw the helicopter take off and then land. She didn’t hear the conversation but knew somehow that the new Number Two tricked him and once again he was not getting out. Well the story continued, John stayed as Number Six once again trying to escape and once again being thwarted. Allison continued to do her bit. Now she knew they would never fix her that she was stuck this way. Well at least they held up their end, by not sending her mother to the Village. That she could be grateful for. In the Village, all was as it was before, except John purposely avoided her gaze when she tried to speak. Then after awhile, she just gave up trying.  


When Allison first came to John’s door in Ireland, she didn’t know what to expect. John had no reason to forgive her. Perhaps it was how soaked she looked in the rain. Perhaps it was the fact that the strange man in the pub, Lexi, spoke so fondly of him that Allison couldn’t resist trying. But when she entered the door, John took her by the shoulders and led her inside.  
“So they never removed the mind reading abilities from you,” John asked evenly.  
Allison shook her head. “No, they kept saying they would, but they never did. I don’t think they really had the abilities, they juse kept the promise dangling in front of me. Some psychic that I couldn’t see that they deceived me.”  
“If they have the ability to create a whole village unseen by others, create mind altering drugs, and the hundreds of other things that they were capable of, then they had the abilities of either drugging or using mind control to alter your psyche to get you to go with them,” John said. “Or perhaps you wanted to believe their promises that you altered your own thinking.”  
Allison nodded. It seemed plausible. She wanted so badly to be accepted that maybe she created her own prison but still she let a friend suffer for it. Even if John forgave her, she didn’t know whether she could forgive herself. “I wanted so badly for it to disappear.”  
“Who said it had to,” John asked. Allison looked at her friend confused. He spoke again. “It’s a part of you. Maybe if it can’t disappear, it should just be accepted and understood before it can be mastered.”  
“There are some people I’ve met that believe the same thing that you do,” Allison said. She glanced at the turquoise ring on her finger and the card that she kept in her pocket.  


After her escape from the Village, Allison just wandered. She befriended many hippies and flower children, even taken to dressing like them as she did now. She currently wore a long ankle length blue dress, a fringe vest and beaded headband, as well as turquoise ring and feathered necklace. Most of the people that she traveled with were very kind and understanding of her “far out” abilities. One of them, Sewati, a handsome bear-like man who spoke with an American Indian accent said that there were groups in America and Canada who could help her. (In fact it was him who gave her the ring as a token of friendship. “You don’t want to disappear,” he said. “You just want to be accepted. You want to be among people who understand what you are going through.” He handed Allison a card to one of those places. Allison at first wanted to throw the card out without even looking at it but she looked in the man’s eyes and could see his thoughts and words were sincere. It was certainly worth a thought.  


“Its worth a consideration,” John suggested as she showed him the card and explained the story.“But there is one other thing that you should do.”  
Allison had tears in her eyes. She knew what John’s suggestion was. “Maman,” she said. “ I do need to talk to her.”  
“Exactly,” John answered. “I don’t want to hear about it if she finds out that you talked to me and not her.” Allison laughed and smiled.  
The young psychic nodded. “Alright, I will talk to her. I will ask for her acceptance and understanding. She needs to see me as I am. I think we both need to see each other as we really are.”  
“Maybe you and your mother are lucky ones as well,”John said. Allison understood what she meant.  


John watched the young woman pack her backpack. She stood at the threshold promising to write to John as soon as she was able to. She gripped his hand tightly just like when she was a little girl glad that he had forgiven and understood her. “You and I really are simpatico,” she said.  
John gave that thin smile. “Who says I am the only one that would be?” he asked. “Maybe its time you found others.”  


Several months later, John Edward received a letter from Vancouver British Columbia Canada along with a photo. The photo showed Allison surrounded by several children and a man with mixed Caucasian and American Indian features:  


 _Dear John,_  
I can’t write very long but I just wanted to say that Maman did have our long chat. It took quite a bit of doing, but I think she is coming around. She said that she loves me and is trying to understand me. It’s a start anyway and I am glad that she is no longer worried about me. I didn’t stay in France long, but I still write to her quite often.  
Now I am in this center. There are people with all kinds of abilities out here; telepaths, telekinetics, clairvoyants, shapeshifters. Its like your home people can stay as long as they want and leave anytime they like. I feel like I’m part of an extended family that accepts and understands me.  
I have learned to control my abilities to the point where I only have the visions when I allow them. Because I have better control, I am finally beginning to get rid of the awful headaches or at least receding them to a dull pain.I have made some friends, many of whom I am proud to say that I am simpatico with including Sewati Macahon, who is also in the photo. He’s one of the instructors here and well, he’s very kind, intelligent, and handsome. :D  
I also enjoy my work at the school. Besides our abilities, we help teach students’ social skills like resolving conflicts in peaceful manner, accepting differences, and also encourage their creativity by inspiring them to pursue artistic endeavors such as painting, writing, playing music, making films or anything that turns them on. I particularly enjoy working with the small children and reminding them that they are not alone in this world. No one is.  
I will write again soon. Thank you for being a true friend.  
All my love,  
Allison  


  
The End  


Author’s Notes:  
Allison’s relationship with Engadine and Cesar is loosely based on the relationship between actress, Lana Turner and her husband, Johnny Stompanato and daughter, Cheryl Crane.  
Allison’s later boyfriend’s name, Sewati’s name means “Curved bear claw” in Miwok. (Ironically his surname McMahon means “Son of bear.” Coincidence? Hmmm, in the immortal words of certain numbers: “That would be telling.” :D) The school she joins is based on a composite of various schools such as Montessori and the Freedom School from the Billy Jack movies. (well with the extra addition of psychic abilities thrown in. :D )


End file.
